


On Your Stag Night

by littlewonder



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Drunk Dialing, Drunk John, Drunk Sex, Drunk Sherlock, Drunk confessions, M/M, Soft Boys, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 18:39:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10882656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlewonder/pseuds/littlewonder
Summary: AU where Sherlock and John weren't interrupted on stag night and they actually got to explore each other and what they want.





	On Your Stag Night

**Author's Note:**

> So recently I read [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1942077%0A) and saw it was part of a challenge to write 1000 stag night fics. And even if it isn't what I think it is (I started imagining, what if they created a challenge where any and all Johnlock shippers had to write a stag night fic and once they reached 1000, they'd make a masterlist), I was just compelled by the idea and just had to create my own whether it counts or not.
> 
> So this is basically my response to a challenge that probably doesn't exist and I made up in my head. lol
> 
> Also, the title of the fic is inspired by the song Stag Night by Becca and Mars. Possibly, they're on YouTube.

It started with a hand on his knee. John's knee.

Sherlock's eyes sparkled. John was hypnotised by them. Then he caught it ― a hint of desperation.

He decided to take a chance. "So am I a pretty lady?"

"We’re not playing the game anymore, John."

John smiled. "I know."

Sherlock grinned. "Yes, you're a pretty lady. A very, very pretty lady."

John leaned forward. "You can have this pretty lady, if you want."

It was a bold move. No escaping the implication behind the statement now.

"I _do_ want."

And there it was.

John groped Sherlock's thigh. "Bed. Yours. Now."

Grinning like a pair of idiots, they somehow stumbled from John's chair to the bedroom, leaning against each other, giggling, and finally falling down on the soft mattress together.

As the giggles subsided, John repositioned himself on the bed, and Sherlock followed him. John stroked his face down from the cheekbone. "You’re gorgeous, y’know. A very pretty lady."

Sherlock smiled, that gorgeous smile that brought the wrinkles to his eyes.

He stroked down his arm, gaze growing absent. _A very pretty lady…_ Blonde hair popped into his mind. Madonna. Mary.

"Shit."

Worry flooded Sherlock's eyes. "What?"

"I forgot. Mary. I forgot I was getting married. That’s what all this was for."

"It’s okay, we can still―"

"Sherlock, I… I can't! Mary… I don't want to cheat!"

Sherlock lowered his head, at first John thought to fellate him, but then he realised he had simply dropped it in defeat in his lap.

"I mean christ I want to," John said, feeling as though he had to justify himself, "but I shouldn't. It’s tempting."

Sherlock lifted his head up. "So call her."

"What?"

"Call her, break up, then it won't be cheating."

"I can't! She’d --" he hiccoughed, "She’d be devastated!"

"All I hear is you wanna have sex with me."

"I do," said John. I’m drunk," said John. "I don't want to drunk dial her."

"Just call."

"I can't…"

"Then I will," said Sherlock. His slipped behind John's waist to his arse, and the skin beneath his jeans came alive electric, and John bucked forward. " _Sherlock…_ " Sherlock's hands came back, John's phone slipped from his back pocket in Sherlock's right. 

John lunged forward. "Give that back!" But Sherlock held it from his reach. "Damn… tallness…"

Sherlock leaned away from him and scrolled. Then he pressed something and put it to his ear.

"Hey Mary," he slurred. "This is John. We are officially broken up! I don't want to marry you, I never wanted to marry you, because I’m in love with Sherlock! Okay, bye forever!" And he hung up.

Despite his mortification, John broke out in giggles. "You know she’ll never believe you're me?" he said. "The voice, too deep…"

"Hm," Sherlock said, as though to prove his point.

"Do you really love me?" John asked.

Sherlock smiled sloppily. "Course. Don’t you?"

John smiled back. "Course."

They wrapped each other up the other's arms, pressed tightly together. They kissed. The kiss deepened, and slowly, so slowly, they peeled each other’s clothes off, piece by piece.

When they both were naked, still they kissed. Then Sherlock broke off, and then he kissed lower, and lower…

And then John was enveloped in a soft wet heat.

He climbed, and climbed. And climaxed.

And then they settled down together and slept.


End file.
